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Saturday, July 25, 2009

a poem for Lillian- published by Medusa's Kitchen


For Lillian Elliott

Here are painted birds.

Here is the fly shuttle.

Here are the floats

High over the warp.

Here is the morning

And its unusual shape. The

Selvages are gathered and overspun.

Here are the reeds, even and full,

The canals of heddles between here

And the moon. Here are the villages

And the rivers poured through them.

Here is the hand and here too, the eye,

Caught in the pattern, framed in the making.

Here is the loop and here is the needle.

Here is time, ignored for centuries,

Left on the edge of the jungle.

“We’ll be right back. We have

Gone to gather raffia. Wait here.”

Here is the blue sky or perhaps

It is the indigo from the hole, which

Reflects the tops of the tree.

Here are painted birds.

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